In my previous blog entry, I hinted that spare time these days, for me, is a hard thing to come by. This was the first year since I've lived in Exeter that I haven't pruned my fruit trees. I've probably been pruning at the wrong time because I can never get up the enthusiasm to go outside in the dead of winter, stand on a ladder, and work the pruning shears for two hours or more. I wait until very late winter/early spring and then I pay the price -- little or no fruit.

But this year I did no pruning at all. I didn't even glance at the trees until spring, when I noticed that when the blossoms fell off things really started taking shape. The apple tree I'd tended to for so many years felt better in its wilder, more natural shape and began showing tiny fruit. On closer examination, I noticed it was more like abundant fruit. And the deer noticed too. Luckily it's a very old, large apple tree, so the deer can take all they like from the lower limbs and there will still be enough for me. They've been there every day early in the morning, until I get up and Fletcher awakens and jumps into his "Hank, the Cowdog" mode, head, tail and back aligned into a spearlike, silent, deer-killer. I read his mind as he comes within striking distance -- he wishes he could lose the dog tags. The deer stares as if frozen. The dog kicks into gear, and in a second, both of them are gone over a stone wall. I want to someday videotape it, but I can never take my eyes off the scene, even though I always know the outcome.

Strangely enough, my pear tree was following suit, but to an even greater extent. The limbs were covered with tiny pears. Today they are heavy and hanging low and the fruits are blemish-free (at this point -- things change quickly!). The deer either don't like them or haven't noticed yet.

The only fruit tree suffering and not producing is my Liberty (disease-resistant) apple tree, which I bought at the Ann & Hope garden center in Warwick about 16 years ago. I took it back to the office in my Volkswagen with the top sticking out of the sunroof. It's been my baby, the only tree I planted myself and coddled all the way. I've never gotten a single apple from it -- but it LOOKS great.